This Alphabetstory is a Spy!
by Ginger with Hat
Summary: I have been giving myself an alphabet-challenge, this time with my newest addiction, Team Fortress 2. It will be a mix of several, short stories and long, detailed ones. Rated K just to be sure. May contain some cross-overs later (but don't get your hopes up) Team Fortress 2 (c) Valve


"YOU FAILED!"

The Administrator's voice, strict and cold as steel, still sounded in the head of the RED Medic, as he dragged himself inside of the RED base at Dustbowl. It had been a long and exhausting day, the sun showing no mercy as it had continued to smash all 18 mercenaries on the field with its hot and stinging ray. It had ended with a victory to the BLUs, as the REDs yet again had to take a defeat. Medic lifted his head to look at his teammates. Scout, Soldier and Heavy were complaining loudly over their recent lost, Demo was drinking heavily from his bottle and Spy was sulking in a corner, a single cigarette dangling from his lips. At the table, Sniper had taken off his aviators and was rubbing his forehead while Pyro was lying face-first over the table, the comforting hand of Engineer on its shoulder. Engineer himself looked tired and disappointed, his forehead glistening with sweat from both hard work and the sun.

The entire team was covered in sweat, dirt, soot and blood, and that, along with the sour stench of the beaten mercenaries and the mood in the room made the Medic sigh heavily before drifting out of the room, towards the medical bay.

It had all been his fault. If he had just been a bit quicker to activate his Übercharge, they would actually have had a chance to win. But because of his, rather unfortunate, encounter with the enemy Spy, he had respawned in the cool, clean supply-room with an empty Übercharge-meter. He had started to refill the meter again, but when he finally had released the charge on the waiting Heavy, the BLUs were already too far ahead. They had captured the last control point five minutes later.

He finally reached the white double-doors and pushed them open with a single hand. The cool, sterile air of the room met his heated, sweaty head, and for a moment he just closed his eyes, enjoying the cool sensation on his face. He started to remove his coat, while his other hand found the light switch, covering the entire room in a small, but somehow bright light. He put the coat on his desk, and then he set to work to get his sticky rubber gloves off. After a few minutes of struggling with the stubborn material, he finally managed to get both gloves off. His hands were just as sweaty and filthy as his face, so he hurried towards the sink in the room, turning the water on. He sighed in delight as the cold liquid covered his hands, removing all signs of a hard battle and leaving his hands clean again. Bending over, he brought the water to his face, as he started to remove the dirt and the remaining bloodstains. It was delightful to feel his face getting scrubbed and cleaned from all the things he had been exposed to the last couple of hours. He finally lifted his head, coming face to face with his own reflection in the mirror.

His hair, perfectly groomed this morning, had been messed up pretty badly and his stray lock of hair was hanging limply over his forehead. His grey-blue eyes had lost a bit of their shine, and bags were staring to form under his eyes. God, he had aged so quickly. Or, at least, he felt older than he should. This war had really worn him down, most of his days doing the exact same thing as he had been doing ever since he had been recruited. He looked at his own face, wondering how the man staring back at him could have started with a rather normal life in Stuttgart, just to end being shipped to America to fight in this endless war. He sighed heavily and reached for the towel on the right side of the sink. A soft cooing could be heard from across the room, following by a sound of something scratching against a hard surface. The German slowly turned around to face the sound, and his face lit up in a small smile.

A dove was sitting on top of his coat, looking at him with interest before turning back to peck at the fresh bloodstains on the labels. It obviously had been there for a while, its white feathers already stained with the crimson liquid. But to the Medic's relief, it wasn't just any dove, perching on his desk. It was his own Archimedes, long-time pet and the only one to keep Medic company, when he was working in the medical bay. Medic placed the towel on its proper hook and held out his right arm towards the desk. Archimedes noticed the motion the man had done and took off from the coat. He landed on his master's hand, quickly closing his wings again as he positioned himself more comfortable on the Medics index finger. Medic brought up his other hand, his index finger gently approaching the blood-covered dove. The dove blinked a few times and leaned in as the finger was close enough, simultaneously closing his eyes at the contact. The Medic's smile grew a bit as he stroked the dove, his finger running over the tiny head and continuing towards the back of Archimedes. They stood like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the cool, quiet surroundings, all the Medic's previous worries completely gone for now. He closed his eyes as he stroked the bird yet again, a soft coo escaping from beneath his fingers.

A knocking sound ripped Medic out of his silent moment, and he turned towards the door. A large silhouette could be seen through the glass panels, and a moment later the Heavy's characteristic, deep voice could be heard through the double doors.

"Doktor, may I come in?"

"Ja, just come in, Herr Heavy." The Russian opened the doors carefully and stepped in, joining Medic in the quiet room. Archimedes looked up from his master's fingers, but as soon as he realized who it was, he quickly relaxed and leaned towards the fingers again. Heavy looked at the resting dove for a moment, before he turned his gaze to the doctor, a smile on his lips.

"He really likes you, yes?" The Medic smiled at his good friend before he made a single nod.

"Ja, he really does. Ve haf been togezher for as long as I can remember." Medic stroked the dove under its beak and continued towards the chest. "I honestly wouldn't know vat to do if I didn't have Archimedes. He…um, he…"

A deathly silence filled the room again as Medic struggled to find his words. His head was bowed down, as if he was apparently concentrating to find the right words. Heavy gazed around the room a bit before a sniffing sound turned his eyes towards Medic again. The doctor still had his head bowed down, but something was defiantly wrong. His shoulders were shaking, and a choked sob escaped from his throat. Tears started to form in his eyes, and seconds later they were falling freely, dripping down on Archimedes. The little dove took off and landed on the desk, shaking his feathers to get rid of the salty liquid. Heavy hurried towards his friend, putting both his hands on Medics shoulders.

"Doktor, what is wrong? Did leetle BLU men do anything to you!?" Medic still kept his head bowed, ashamed to look at the man in front of him. A shivering sob escaped his throat again.

"Ne..nein. I...It is nicht…" Medic´s speech was cut short as another sob overwhelmed him. He wiped his eyes, his eyes locked on the floor. "Es tut mir leid, dass ich nicht helfen konnte." Heavy raised an eyebrow in question.

„What is leetle doktor talking about? Is it tha…"

"IT WAS MY FAULT, VERDAMMT!" Medic suddenly swung around and kicked a chair that stood in the corner of the room. The chair fell to the floor with a loud bang and rocked a bit back and forth before lying still. Heavy took a few steps back, taken aback by the German's sudden burst of anger. Medic was breathing heavily, his hands curled into trembling fists. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, his anger was gone. His shoulders slumped down, and he fell to the floor, landing on his knees. Heavy hurried towards his side, kneeling down beside him. The Russian laid a comforting hand on Medic shoulder, causing the smaller male to look up. His eyes were red from the salty tears, and his lower lip was trembling slightly.

"It…It was mein fault. If I had the Übercharge ready from the start, ve vouldn't haf lost." Heavy furrowed his eyebrows at this.

"Leetle Doktor shouldn't blame himself. We did good job defending point." Heavy stood up and held out his hand towards Medic. The doctor looked at the friendly gesture before reaching up and grabbed the large hand. With the help of Heavy, he raised himself from the floor. Even though he had his voice under control by now, Medic still couldn't get himself to look at the large man.

"Heavy, I appreciate zhat you try, but I do not zhink zhat I…" Medic's speech was cut off, as Heavy grabbed him and pulled the German into a hug. Not the spine-crushing ones like he used to practice when they had won a battle, but a surprisingly gentle and caring hug. Medic's brain was working at its highest to figure out what to say, but he soon realized that words weren't necessary. He relaxed in the arms of the large man, as he let himself sink into the warm embrace and could feel how his heart became light with joy. After what felt like several minutes (it was merely seconds) Heavy pulled back and released Medic from his arms. He placed both of his hands on Medic's shoulders, only an arm's length apart.

"There. Is Doktor feeling better now?" Medic just looked at him, no words forming in his head. A single nod was all what he could manage in the moment. A smile spread across Heavy's face, as he removed his hands from Medic's shoulders and moved towards the desk. Archimedes pulled his head out from under his wing as the Russian held out a finger towards him. The little dove studied the finger for a second before jumping from the desk and up on the outstretched limp. Heavy walked back to Medic, who automatically held out both his hands, a reflex that he almost held natural every time his little dove came towards him. Archimedes jumped from the Russian's finger to the German's hands, where he just looked at the surroundings, completely uninterested in the two mercenaries in the room. Medic looked at Heavy, but this time a smile stretched across his tired face. He was just about to reply, but a loud voice outside the door interrupted him.

"Hey, fellas, Engie say's dinner is almost ready. Get yo lazy asses out of Doc's "Cavern of Crazy!"

"Da, we will be there!" They heard the young Bostonian run off, and then the place was quiet again. Heavy removed his hands from the doctor's shoulders and headed towards the door. He reached for the handle…

"Heavy, vait!" The weapons expert spun around and was greeted by a clutching feeling at his lower abdomen. Medic gave the bulky man a quick hug before stepping back, a genuine smile on his lips. "Danke, Heavy. For everyzhing zhat you just said and did." Medic gestured to Archimedes, who was perching on his master's right shoulder. "It is nice to know, zhat I can count on other zhan just Archimedes to cheer me up." The large Russian looked a bit surprised, but just took in the doctor's compliment.

"Doktor, you are credit to team."

"You are too, mein freund." Heavy gestured to the double doors.

"Let us go. The toymaker must be ready with dinner now." Medic nodded. It should be nice to get some of the Texan's home-made dinner to ease the feeling of losing once again. Heavy opened the doors and walked down the hall, towards the kitchen where the rest of the team would be. Medic stepped out in the hallway and closed the doors very carefully. The entire base was quiet, except for a mumbled sound coming from the kitchen doors. He reached up and stroked the bird one last time, a soft coo escaped his beak.

"Ja, Archimedes. We really are credit to team."


End file.
